If Bluebirds Fly
by BuffyAnne
Summary: "She refuses to give up, not after hearing his voice – his defeated tone telling her Annalise tried to kill him. He thinks she's working with Annalise, and maybe she was before she knew what that woman was actually trying to do. But now, she needs him to know that she meant it, everything she told him is true." Fix-it fic for 3x05, and my attempt to fix this messy season.


Title: If Bluebirds Fly

Rating: Mature

Pairing/Characters: Frank/Laurel, Laurel Castillo, Frank Delfino, Bonnie Winterbottom,

Spoilers: Up to 3x05, deviates from canon during 3x05.

Summary: _So, she keeps calling him. She refuses to give up, not after hearing his voice – his defeated tone telling her Annalise tried to kill him. He thinks she's working with Annalise, and maybe she was before she knew what that woman was actually trying to do. But now, she needs him to know that she meant it, everything she told him is true. She loves him. And she hates him. But she wants him to come back to her. She wants a chance with him._

 **AN:** So, I think we can all agree that this season has been messy, and that the writers have rewritten and tried to destroy a lot. This is my attempt to fix some of that, especially the mess of 3x05. Everything diverges at 3x05, and depending on who is #underthesheet, this may be my headcanon forever. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **If Bluebirds Fly**

I.

She's going crazy. She must be. There is no other explanation, nothing that explains her complete obsession with Frank. Nothing to explain why she can't let him go. She should. She should take his leaving as a clean break, hate him for killing Lila, Wes's father, Bonnie's father, and move forward with her life. She should chalk this up to normal heartbreak, a relationship gone bad, and move on. She can't, though, because she loves him. She loves him more than she ever realized when he was right in front of her. She loves him more than she's ever loved anyone else. And it's stupid but she feels, deep down, she is supposed to be with him, that in some sick, messed up, dysfunctional way, they are perfect for each other.

So, she keeps calling him. She refuses to give up, not after hearing his voice – his defeated tone telling her Annalise tried to kill him. He thinks she's working with Annalise, and maybe she was before she knew what that woman was actually trying to do. But now, she needs him to know that she meant it, everything she told him is true. She loves him. And she hates him. But she wants him to come back to her. She wants a chance with him.

She glances down at her phone for what must be the hundredth time, hoping for something from Bonnie. Anything. There's nothing.

"Laurel." Wes's sharp tone breaks through her thoughts.

She looks around at the table where they are studying for their exam before her eyes land on him.

"Why do you keep looking at your phone? Expecting a call?" he asks, suspicion in his tone. She sighs.

She hates the way he's been hovering over her shoulder, the way he feels entitled to know her every movement, her every conversation. She doesn't know what's going on with them and is confused about how she feels but only because she misses Frank. With everything, part of her thinks it would be so easy to forget about him and try for something normal with Wes, with anyone really. Wes just happens to be there and someone that she does care about. But he's not Frank. And she can only pretend for so long. She knows if Frank were there, she'd be with him. It's not really Wes that she wants, which is making all of this more annoying.

"Why is that any of your business?" she snaps, running her hand through her hair and looking back at her outline.

"We're supposed to be studying," she reminds him when she sees that he's still staring at her moments later.

Her phone buzzes then, and she bites her lip as she glances down. It's Bonnie. She can't ignore it but she knows Wes will be even more suspicious, maybe even go to Annalise with whatever he thinks he knows. She shakes her head, taking it anyway. This is her chance. Maybe her only chance.

Standing from the chair, she grabs her bag and heads for the hall. On her way out she gives Wes a glare that tells him to stay put and to not even think about following her out. He appears to take the warning. She hits the green button on her way, bringing the phone to her ear.

"Hold on," she says softly.

She walks out of the room and down the hall, glancing back to make sure she isn't being followed. She wouldn't put it past Wes at this point.

"You found him?" she finally asks, hating the desperation in her tone. "Is he—"

"He's fine. Don't say anything," Bonnie warns. It's warranted, she knows, but Laurel hates that no one seems to trust her.

"Of course, I won't but Bonnie—"

"I'll text you the address to the motel," Bonnie cuts her off again. It's okay though because after searching for months, it's everything Laurel wants to hear. "Are you able to come now?"

"Yes," Laurel lets out a sigh of relief, tears starting to gather in her eyes. She found him. She's going to see him again soon. "I'm on my way. I'll be there in a couple of hours."

She hangs up and is already heading out of the building toward her car. It's what she's been waiting for but she's nervous. So nervous. What if he really doesn't want to see her? What if she gets there and realizes that there is no saving them, no saving _him_? What if this is a bad idea?

Maybe it is, she tells herself. Maybe she'll get there and learn for good that they can't be repaired, they can't come out from this. And maybe that's what she needs. Closure. One way or the other. Something. Anything but this purgatory.

II.

"Come back to Philadelphia with me," Bonnie asks, sitting across from him on the dirty motel floor. He's got bourbon in hand, and he's as relaxed as he's been able to be since this all started. That Bonnie isn't upset with him, that he's in the same room with her again, is everything. He's been so alone for so long with nothing, no ties to his life except for voicemails Laurel leaves like clockwork. She may be working with Annalise, she may be lying, but he still listens. He listens over and over and forces himself not to call her. It's better if he doesn't call her.

Still, he shakes his head. There's no going back. "I can't do that."

"Annalise needs to hear you say it…" she tries again, brings up the reason he ran, "that Sam forced you to keep it from her."

And it's true. Sam did force him not to tell Annalise about his role in her accident. And he thought he couldn't go against Sam, not after everything Sam did for him.

"I could've told her anyway," he says. He's thought about it often, about how it was the right thing, about how Annalise deserved to know. Frank owed her as much as he owed Sam.

"You couldn't because Sam got into your head… just like he did to me," Bonnie argues. He wants to tell her that it's not the same. That she didn't betray Annalise before Sam got to her. He made his decision to go against her. She suffered the consequences, and only then did Sam get involved. It was a true betrayal. It's not the same, and maybe that's why Bonnie can't really understand it, can't see how there's no way back for him.

"This is a woman who wants me dead," he clarifies.

"Because she blames you for the baby, and that's fair. You know that." She stares at him for a moment.

"Of course, I do," he tells her. And he doesn't blame Annalise. He's deserved this for ten years. It was only a matter of time before it all caught up with him.

"Then come home and tell her that. She'll forgive you," she pleads, and she sounds so hopeful. "You just need to forgive her first."

He doesn't have the heart to tell her that it won't happen. He knows it, and he knows that, deep down, she does too. He could apologize to Annalise, tell her what Sam did and how it was Sam that told him to keep it from her, but it wouldn't matter. Why would it? It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make anything better. He killed her baby. And for what? Money? He's responsible for that, and there's no going back. She's right to hate him. Bonnie knows it. And they can't live in this fantasy that Annalise is going to forgive him. She's not.

"I've got some stuff I got to do first," he tells her, deflecting from her plea as he looks away, unable to lie while looking her in the eye. She'll still know he's lying but it's easier. "I need to figure it out, and then I'll see if I can, if things get better… maybe if she stops sending hitmen after me."

He smirks, tries to play it off as a joke but the truth is he's scared that others _will_ come, that he won't be able to spot them next time, and it will be too late. He'll be killed and someone, probably Bonnie, will have to tell Laurel he's dead. And he can't put her through that; though, maybe it would be better for her if he was dead. She could stop calling all the time, stop working for Annalise, and move on with her life.

Bonnie gives him a long hard look, and after a moment, an understanding seems to pass between them. She sighs, almost defeated. He wants to tell her he's sorry, that he wishes it could be different, that he could actually fix this. She looks like she might cry, and so he's not surprised when she gets up and turns around. She's always so strong. She doesn't let people see her like this often.

"Do you mind if I take a shower?" she asks, still turned away from him.

"Yeah," he says softly. "Go for it."

There's nothing else to say as she walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. He sighs, downs the rest of his drink, and moves to the bed. Everything's a mess, and it's all his fault. He said it to Bonnie but maybe he was right, maybe Sam should have just left him in that jail cell to rot for the rest of his life. Annalise, Bonnie, Laurel… They'd all be better off right now if they had never known him.

"Where are you going to go?" Bonnie asks a short time later as she steps out of the bathroom. It interrupts his thoughts but he gives her a soft smile and shrugs.

"I don't know…" he tells her, "but I'll figure it out. Maybe it's a good thing that I'll finally be on my own, you know? I won't have Sam or Annalise or you to fall back on. I'll have to be my own person."

He regrets saying it the moment he does because he sees her face fall. "Bon," he says softly.

She takes a deep breath and walks over to the bed, sitting next to him. She leans against him, laying her head on his shoulder, and he has to take a deep breath to stem his own tears. She's like a sister to him. She's the only other person who understands what it's like in that house. They went through it together, grew closer, found a bond far deeper than either of them expected. He needs her so much but he also knows that any reliance on him will put her in danger with Annalise. Especially now.

"It's going to be okay," he tries to comfort. "This isn't forever. I'm sure once we give it a little more time, a little more space, there might be a road back. We're not there yet."

He doesn't know if she believes him but she doesn't fight him on it. He reaches out and takes her hand in his, squeezing softly.

"You just go back and be that badass I know you can be. She needs you more than she knows… And I know that you need her too."

He feels her nod against his shoulder, and he takes a deep breath before forcing a smile.

A sharp knock on the door breaks the moment, and Frank freezes as Bonnie pulls away. He isn't expecting anyone. What if someone has found him? With Bonnie here, he let his guard down. He glances over at her and she doesn't look surprised. She's expecting it, he realizes. He almost wonders if she's betrayed him, led Annalise or another hitman right to him, but she doesn't look worried or upset. She looks relieved.

And as she stands, starts to walk toward the door, he quickly stands too. "Who is that?" he asks, ready to stop her.

She pauses and looks back at him, keeping a steady gaze. "I called Laurel," she tells him.

And that is one thing that he most certainly didn't expect. He doesn't know when she was able to make the call, what they had even been doing a few hours ago. His heart is pounding. He doesn't want this to happen.

"You called… Why?" he asks, voice rougher than he intended.

"She misses you," she starts simply. "She's worried about you. And I don't think you realize how much you need her, Frank."

He shakes his head, almost forcefully, because this is exactly what he didn't want. This is why he never calls her back. "I don't want her mixed up in this," he asserts.

"She's already mixed up in this," Bonnie reminds him. "And she sold her soul to her father to find you, whatever that means. She's how I knew you were here."

"Sold her soul?" he asks, too much going on for everything to connect immediately. When it does, his worry is clear. "She saw her father?"

"Yeah," Bonnie shrugs. "Annalise sent—"

He cuts her off then, stalking closer to her. His anger over the situation starting to take control. "You let Annalise send her to that man?" he sneers.

"You think I had any say?" She doesn't back down. "And what does it matter? It's not like she had it rough. She grew up rich as could be in Florida, probably without a care in the world."

Frank gives her a hard look. He has to remind himself that there are things she doesn't know, things that weren't in his report, things Laurel told only him that he would never tell anyone else.

"You know nothing about her life with him," he says simply in a low voice. There's a fire behind his eyes and when Bonnie's eyes widen, he knows she gets it. "You have no idea what you were asking her to do."

A second knock interrupts them again. This time, it's a little more insistent. Laurel knows where he is now, and she's not just going to go away.

Bonnie sighs and breaks away from his stare. She takes a step away from him and toward the door. "Talk to her, please," she pleads.

"You've never liked any of the girls I've dated," he points out. "Why are you helping Laurel?"

"Because I've never seen you love any of the girls. But clearly, you love her. And like I said, you need her."

The anger goes out of him then. "She'll never understand this," he says softly.

Bonnie takes a step back towards him, forcing him to meet her eyes so that he'll listen to what she's saying. "Not if you don't let her…" she agrees. "But Frank, she does love you. Despite Lila, despite Mahoney. And I wasn't sure at first but you should give her a chance to know you. I think she might surprise us both."

Frank takes several moments but eventually shrugs his acquiescence, relaxing as much as he can when his heart is pounding and his thoughts are clouding his brain, making it impossible to focus. He knows there's no way around this. She either will or she won't but this is the moment of truth.

Bonnie nods and completes her walk to the door, finally opening it to a waiting Laurel who quickly steps inside. Once she's in front of him, it's as if time has stopped. She's somehow more beautiful than he remembers, and he doesn't know how he stayed away, how he could ever keep her out of his life. He loves her too much. Bonnie's right. He needs her, more than he's ever needed anyone, and he's just realized that now.

Her eyes widen as she sees him, taking him in. She's shocked by his appearance but he gets that, knows it's a big change. No beard, shaved head, and he's lost some weight. He almost looks like someone else entirely. Bonnie says something, and Laurel looks away from him. He can't make out what's being said because his mind is overwhelmed; the sound is dulled by all the noise in his head. He doesn't have to say anything, though. Laurel responds and there's an exchange, Laurel nodding before Bonnie grabs her bag from the chair. With a last look towards him and a final goodbye, she leaves the room, leaves them to be.

III.

Neither of them says anything at first. Frank doesn't know how long they stand in silence, and he certainly doesn't know how to start this conversation. Laurel just looks at him, keeping eye contact despite the deafening silence.

Finally, she starts to move towards him. Frank feels rooted in place, unable to move forward or back. And if the look in her eyes is any indication, he should step back. He doesn't though, and he senses what she's going to do before she does it. He lets it happen.

She pulls her arm back, and her hand moves through the air until it makes direct contact with his cheek. There's enough force to knock him off-balance slightly. He just takes a breath, doesn't react because he gets it. He understands her anger. He _deserves_ it. Straightening, he studies her shocked expression as if she's stunned by her own action, but before he can say anything, she's stepping closer, her arms wrapping around his neck as she buries her face in his shoulder. He can feel her physically hold back a sob as he just wraps his arms around her tightly, reveling in the feel of having her in his arms after so long. He never thought he would have this again.

"I hate you," she murmurs against his skin. He takes a deep breath.

"I know."

She pulls back slightly so that she can look at him, her hands resting on his shoulders, squeezing.

"I love you," she tells him, her tone filled with certainty.

He sees it then. The love shining through; he's never had this before. No woman has ever looked at him the way she is looking at him. He doesn't deserve it, and that makes this all the more wondrous. He reaches out and tucks some hair behind her ear.

"I know," he says softly. He didn't believe her until this moment, and now he doesn't know how he ever could have doubted her. He doesn't know how he could ever believe she was purposefully working against him.

She pulls away then, taking a couple of steps back and folding in on herself as she wraps her arms around her body. She's protecting herself from whatever she thinks is about to happen.

"You'll talk to Bonnie but not me?" she asks, her voice small.

He sighs softly. "Laurel, it wasn't anything against you."

She drops her arms then, giving him a look of frustration. When she speaks, her voice is stronger. "I've called you. Over and over and over. And you ignored me every time."

He doesn't have a defense for that. He didn't answer, didn't call her back, because in some way he was trying to protect her. From what Annalise would do if she found out. From himself. She deserves better. That has always been true, and he thought by ignoring her, she could move on and have a better life without him.

"I've known Bonnie for years, Laurel. She's always believed in me." He knows that he's said the wrong thing when he sees anger flashing in her eyes.

She steps closer, and that anger is clear in her tone. "And I don't?!" she spits out, moving back towards him with every statement. "I have done nothing but believe in you, even though I shouldn't. I've protected you. I've done everything I could help keep you safe. So, don't you dare pretend like I haven't. I have believed in you even though you haven't deserved it."

She breaks at that, tears spilling down her face. She angrily wipes her cheeks but refuses to back away.

"Laurel…" he tries. His voice is soft, begging her to understand.

She shakes her head. "No! Why do you even expect me to believe in you? How am I supposed to trust you when you won't talk to me? You never tell me anything. How do you expect that of me when I know _nothing_ about you?"

"You know me," he asserts. She's the only one with whom he's ever truly been himself, at least as much as he would allow himself to be.

She deflates at that, anger flowing out of her and replaced with sadness. She looks at him for several moments, and for an instant, he's transported to his apartment when she was standing this close to him, begging him to talk to her, to tell her his secrets.

"No, I don't…" she tells him, defeated. She looks away from him before turning and slowly walking toward the bed. She lets out a long, slow breath as she sits, staring down at her hands. He just waits. He doesn't know what to do here. He's never been good at this, never been good at letting his guard down, letting someone see the real him. That's what she's asking for, and he wants to give it to her. He does. But he doesn't know how, doesn't know where to start.

She starts for him. "You were in jail. You never told me that," she says, looking back up at him then. "There are so many things that you have never told me. And I want to believe in you." She takes a shaky breath then, and he has to close his eyes. He can't see her cry now. He can't handle that.

"I want to know I haven't been wrong." Her voice calls to him, and he has to look back. He can't help it. He looks at her, watches her tears through his own. "Despite everything telling me I have been, despite the murders, despite you running, despite you not returning my calls, ignoring me. I want to believe that you are still that person I'd stay up talking to at night when we should have been sleeping, that person who made me dinner and refused to let me leave without breakfast, and that person who comforted me in so many ways, that person I felt safe with. I want to know that I'm not wrong to believe in him. I want to know that he's real."

As she speaks, he can't stop from moving towards her, slowly and silently sitting next to her. She's everything to him. She's salvation. And she still loves him despite what she already knows. It's clear in her words, in her tone. And he wants to show her that he is that man. He wasn't pretending with her. And he wants to be that man in the future. He wants to be that man for her. A better man. He doesn't want to keep going down this road. He wants to go back to her, back to when it felt like he could finally be Frank and not the person he was for Sam, is for Annalise, and not the person he has been since he left. She's pleading, with her words and her eyes for him to take down that wall.

He takes a deep breath, unable to look at her. He looks down at his hands instead, playing with them as the nerves takes over.

"I… was arrested when I was 13," he starts; he hears her gasp. He pushes himself to keep going. "It was Sam who got Annalise to take my case, pro bono, when I was 23. I went straight from jail to working for her."

"You—You were in jail for ten years?" she asks and he can hear the disbelief in her voice, the hurt at having been kept in the dark about such a significant part of his life.

He swallows the lump forming in his throat, his voice straining as he pushes out his simple reply. "Yeah."

She's silent. If he were to look at her, he knows he'd see her mind working, trying to make sense of everything, trying to figure out what she missed, how she didn't know.

"So, what was that in the car? That time we were on a stakeout when you wanted me to get to know you. You talked about high school, college… that was all a lie?" The higher pitch of her tone, her ragged breaths, tells him she's crying, and he wants to reach out, wants to show her he's still Frank. He doesn't. "Why ask me to get to know you and tell me lies? You didn't let me know you at all. Was anything you ever said to me true?"

She takes a shaky breath then, and he looks over, meeting her tear-stained face with his own. He doesn't let down this wall often; he never lets it get to this point but now that it has, he can't help but feel it, can't help but hate himself for hurting her.

"I love you," he says, voice thick, "Everything I feel about you is true."

He's looking at her, pleading. She doesn't respond to it. Doesn't take the bait. Instead, she pushes forward not content with knowing so little.

"What did you do?" she asks. "Why were you there for so long? And at 13?" She's disbelieving, knowing that it must have been for something serious. He remembers Bonnie's words then. _Talk to her. Give her a chance._ It's now or never, he knows. If he doesn't let her in, then she'll leave for good.

He takes a deep breath. "All of the records will tell you I tried to kill my father," he whispers. It's hard for him to get the words out as more tears start to gather. "That I planned it for weeks."

Her eyes widen and mouth drops, shock clear. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't that. "Your father?" She shakes her head, unable to believe it. "You... Is that what happened to him? Why he's in a wheelchair. You put him there?"

Frank closes his eyes as the tears start to fall, swallowing. "No," he tells her, "he was already in a wheelchair."

"You tried to kill your father?" That she doesn't believe him says a lot about how much she has faith in him, and he starts to feel a little hopeful, like maybe she'll get it.

He nods. "That's what the records will say," he repeats.

"And you?" she asks, suspiciously, "What will you say?"

"To anyone else..." he starts, his eyes never leaving hers. He needs her to understand. "That I did it. Exactly as I said." And that's true. No one knows what really happened, not Annalise, not Sam, not even Bonnie. He leaves it open, telling her that there's more to it. She takes the bait it this time.

"And to me?" He sees the recognition in her eyes, knows that there's something big on the other side of that question.

He hesitates, even though he set it up. He's suddenly overcome with fear, worried that telling her could be a death sentence for both of them. She breathes out and slides closer to him.

"Frank? Please," she whispers, so softly that it nearly breaks him. He nods.

"To you," he starts slowly, "I'd tell you my dad was in the mafia. Low level. It was through that, years earlier, that he got hurt."

He can see that she wants to say something, knows that she understands, and has the background with her dad to know how these things work. When she stays silent, letting him know that she's listening, he continues.

"After he got hurt, they started using his shop to get things done. He couldn't help in the way they wanted, so they found another way to keep him tied to them. They used it as a chop shop and to launder money. I didn't know anything of that at the time," he tells her. "I never even could've guessed that he was mixed up in all that, though looking back on it," he shrugs, "I should've known."

"Sometimes," she starts softly, "you can't see what's in front of you until something happens."

He nods; she's talking about her dad and the kidnapping. He hates that she can understand.

"He wanted out. I guess he'd made that known. He refused to keep helping them… You know how that goes," he says, watching as she nods, knowing then where the story is going. He says it anyway, unable to stop now that he's finally started telling someone. He wants her to know, _needs_ to tell her.

"They tried to kill him. Showed up at the shop one Sunday night, when they thought no one else was there. I was but in the back… I can't even remember what I was doing." He lets out a sardonic chuckle, looking away from her for the rest of it. "He'd been working under a car, and they dropped it on him." He hears her gasp then. He takes a breath to try and stem a second round of tears. "And he was… trapped in agony. I made myself known, pulled the alarm, just hoping they would leave. I should've done more. I should've but I hid. I never even saw them. They—they thought he was gonna die, I guess, but they threatened him anyway, loud enough so I'd hear. Said they'd go after my ma, my sisters. That couldn't happen."

"Frank," she breaths out as it all comes together for her but he shakes his head.

"The police arrived, then the ambulance took him away, and I'm the only other one there. So I… I said it was me. He never disputed it, never tried to stop it. I was so scared that something would happen to my family. And it—it felt like I didn't do enough. I just hid. Instead of helping. Like a coward."

He can't hold in the sob any longer. He leans forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. She reaches out as he starts to cry. And he feels her hand on his arm, gripping tightly so that he knows she's there.

When she speaks, he can hear that she's crying too. "No, you weren't a coward. You were 13, Frank. You did what you had to in order to survive, to protect your family."

She wraps her arms around him then, pulling him as close to her as she can. She lets him cry as long as he needs, as much as he needs. For Frank, it feels like a weight has finally been lifted, to tell someone the truth, to not have to hide. For the first time since he was 13, he feels free.

He tells her everything, explains about the baby and Sam and Lila. He cries through it all, allows himself to break and tear down the walls and finally feel all the horrible things he's done. Hate himself for it. She keeps her arms around him, doesn't let go.

And that's how they sit for the longest time until he's calmed down, even after he's calmed down. She rests her head on his shoulder, her hands wrapped around his arm providing him the comfort he didn't know he needed. The comfort he definitely doesn't deserve.

Nothing about his story, his past, justifies the murders or the things he's done. He made his choices. But somehow it seems to make what he's done more palatable to Laurel, at least she seems to understand better. She's here despite it all, touching him and holding him in a way she would never have when he told her about Lila months ago.

"I'm so sorry I did this to you, Frank. If I had never told Annalise…" she finally speaks, just as it was starting to get too quiet.

He shakes his head. "No, if I had told you the truth from the start none of this would've happened." He laughs ironically. "This is all on me."

She doesn't say anything to that. And he doesn't expect her to argue. They know it's true.

She yawns a few minutes later, and they both laugh softly at the sudden sound. It's getting late. The sun went down hours ago.

"You should get some sleep before heading back," he tells her. She nods and pulls away from him.

"Come back with me, Frank. We can figure it out," she urges.

"You know I can't do that. She tried to kill me, Laurel. I'm not going to make it easier for her."

He hates the flippant tone of his voice when he sees the sadness flash in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"No, you're right." She stands, not looking at him. "Do you have something I can wear?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says, getting up and moving over to his bag to find something that will work for her. "You can have the bed. I'll make up a spot on the floor."

She's silent, and when he hands the clothes over, he can see she wants to tell him that's not necessary. But they both know it's better if they don't share the bed. He doesn't want her doing anything she'll regret tonight.

"Thanks," she simply says as she takes the clothes and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

When she comes out, Frank has already stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt. They move around each other as she goes to climb in bed. He brushes his teeth before doing the same.

It's quiet once they both get settled. He thinks Laurel must have fallen asleep but he's wide awake, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.

His mind starts wandering; he starts panicking over having told her about his dad, about the fucking mafia. What was he thinking? Telling her that information? It's only put her at risk now. He's convinced that she's somehow in danger. It's irrational, probably. It's just the two of them, and neither of them will say anything. But he can't sate the nagging fear that says he needs to get her away from Philly, needs to protect her. He can't let her go back on her own to Annalise or to the invisible men who have probably always been lurking, watching to ensure he doesn't make a move against them.

"Frank," she calls out quietly then, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," he asks softly, his voice a little rough in the dark.

"Are you sure you can't come back with me?" Her voice is so small, pleading, and he has to close his eyes tight to stem the tears.

"I can't go back," he tells her gently. "Even if she says she'll forgive me, she can't."

He hears her deep breath, the pain residing in that small sound. He thinks about that place, the people who have destroyed him, are destroying Laurel, and he makes a decision to give voice to a thought he never really entertained but that was always there in the back of his mind, a future he's never allowed himself to truly want.

"And maybe I don't have to go back…" he starts, his voice still soft and filled with hope. "Maybe neither of us do."

"What are you talking about, Frank?" she asks, voice just as soft.

"Run away with me," he says simply before elaborating, "You're not happy in that house, nobody ever is. But you, out of all of us, deserve to be."

He pauses and when she doesn't say anything else, he continues painting the picture of a life he now wants more than ever, one he can see so clearly.

"Find some boring town, get normal jobs. Make a family… We'd have cute babies, no?" He smiles in the darkness.

He hears her shaky breath, knows that she doesn't think he's serious. He is.

She plays along anyway.

"Yeah, we would."

IV.

She can't sleep. After everything today, all that she's learned, she should be exhausted. And she is but she can't shut her mind off. After learning everything, especially what Frank went through when he was younger, when he was a _child_ , she can't help but see him in a totally different light.

It's not a bad thing but an understanding that, like his father said, life really beat him up. And that's bound to have an effect on anyone. It can't just excuse the murders, nothing can, but she finally knows he's not like her father. That is now clear. Instead, he's the collateral damage of men like her father. And he doesn't want to be. He wants a way out, a way to somehow get back to the man he was trying to be. She wants that for him.

She hates that he feels so beholden to Annalise, that Sam held so much power over him, that he was able to manipulate Frank into killing an innocent girl. She can't imagine what it had been like for Frank to make that mistake all those years ago, to think that all Mahoney wanted was a mistrial, and discover he actually wanted to kill Annalise and succeeded in killing her child. Annalise got him out of that jail cell. Sam worked with him to help him adjust, deal with everything. They got him out, gave him a new life. And to have caused them so much pain, even if he truly didn't mean to… It's all coming together for her now. She finally understands how he ended up here.

She's drawn out of her thoughts by some rustling at the foot of her bed. Frank fell asleep a while ago; she could hear when his breathing finally evened out, but this is not just him moving around in sleep. She sits up in bed, looking over the edge to see the tension in his face, the jerking movements in his body. When he starts murmuring something she can't make out, she gets out of bed and goes to him. He's clearly having a nightmare, and it hurts her to see him in such pain.

She moves beside him, slowly reaching out to gently place her hand on his arm. "Frank," she says softly, rubbing her hand up and down his forearm when he doesn't respond to her right away.

"Frank," she speaks a little louder and this time he jolts awake, eyes wildly searching until they land on her. She sees the moment he finds her, the way his entire body almost instantly relaxes.

"You were having a nightmare," she says softly.

"That's been happening a lot lately," he informs her roughly. "But this…" He swallows hard, shaking his head, as he works to catch his breath.

She sighs softly and moves to lay beside him, her hand moving from his arm to rest on his chest. She props her head up on her elbow so that she can look at him.

"You want to talk about it?" she asks.

"No," he answers quickly, and she knows it's because it was that bad. It's probably for the best that he doesn't dwell on it.

"Where are we gonna go?" she asks, instead, to take his mind off of it. She wants to finish their earlier conversation, a conversation that, if she's honest with herself, she's more than a little intrigued by. She honestly doesn't know why she's still in Philly, why she hasn't left Annalise and Middleton already. Except she does know. She's stayed for Frank. And he's not there anymore.

"What?" he asks softly, turning his head towards her.

She adjusts, resting her head on the pillow beside him. "When we run away… Where are we going to go?" she repeats.

He rolls on his side then, to get a better look at her. "We'll go wherever you wanna go," he tells her, "I just wanna be with you."

"I want to be near a beach," she says, a soft smile crossing her face. "I used to like surfing when I was a kid. I felt so free and happy when I was just out in the water."

He gives her a crooked smile. "I can't imagine you surfing."

"Well, that's the point of running away together, right? So we'll be able to, without all of the drama, to finally get to know each other. We'll have time to learn everything," she trails off for a moment, thinking about how great that actually sounds. "More time than we'll probably want to spend together, to be honest." She laughs lightly but when she sees how deeply he is looking at her, how much love and pain are in his eyes, she grows serious once again.

He reaches out, fingers gliding across her cheek. She thinks he's trying to convince himself she's real. She just looks back, placing her own hand on his bare cheek, letting her thumb trip across his stubble. It's weird, almost, seeing him like this. It's also everything.

Their lips meet in the middle, desperate for contact. It's slow and intense and emotional. She's missed this connection. She's missed _him_.

She revels in it, the feel of his lips against hers once more, sharing the same breath, feeling his teeth graze her bottom lip. She moans softly at that and it seems to break the dam. Their movements become faster, more frantic, as if they can't be with each other fast enough. She grips at his shirt, pulling it up his body and only breaking from his lips to drag it over his head. They both reach for her shirt then, ridding her of it just as quickly.

Her hands move to his boxers pushing them down his thighs, while he does the same with hers. All the while, their lips are moving together hungrily, their moans and groans mingling softly. She reaches between them, wrapping her hand around his length, stroking him until she feels him getting harder and bigger. It's so familiar to her. She's missed this.

She urges him on his back and climbs on top of him, straddling him. Their lips don't part, and she feels as his hands slowly glide across her back, moving lower until they stop just above her hips. She pulls up but his hand quickly moves to her upper back, keeping her close.

He's gentle, more hesitant than he has ever been with her but unwilling to part from her in any way, almost as if he thinks she'll disappear at any moment. And he's broken. She sees it in his eyes, feels it in his kiss. He's so hurt and broken and doesn't think he deserves this, doesn't think he deserves her. She wants to tell him he does, tell him she loves him and misses him and wants him. She can't say it, though, doesn't think words will be enough right now; so, she leans in to kiss him once more, pouring every thought, every feeling into that kiss, into her movements. She makes love to him as much as he is making love to her.

He lets her sit up when she tries again, and she reaches between them, taking his length into her hand once more. She guides him inside her, feeling his long fingers tightening against her hips. Bracing her hands on his chest, she slowly lowers herself onto him with a long, low moan slipping from her lips as she envelops him completely, feels how hard and soft and big he is inside her, stretching her perfectly in a way that has always made her think she's made for him, that no one else will ever fit like him.

And she doesn't want to find out, she thinks suddenly. She never wants to be with anyone but him. She wants to run away; she wants that future, those children, with him. It's a realization of just how much he means to her, a recognition of all her jumbled and confused feelings finally making sense. Her loud moan catches her off guard then, her emotions heightening the feeling of him inside her. She's already on the brink, already close to coming after so long without him.

She opens her eyes and he's staring, looking at her with awe and reverence and love, so much love.

"Frank," she chokes out, saying more in that one word that she could with a hundred.

He reaches up and pushes hair behind her ear. Resting his hand on the back of her head, he doesn't break eye contact. He only nods, pressing his hips up to meet hers as she slowly grinds against him. But his nod tells her everything, that he feels it too, that he's right there with her and this could be everything if they allow themselves that.

He pulls her back down to him then and she collapses forward onto his chest. Their lips meet again, roughly, emotions bubbling over the edge and pouring into the kiss. He wraps an arm around her waist holding her against him as his hips take charge, bucking up into her over and over. They swallow each other's moans until Laurel can't help but break away. The change in position brings a new sensation, gives her just enough to help send her over the edge. She drops her face to the crook of his neck.

"Frank, Frank, don't sto- Frank," she chants his name, moaning desperately, feeling him thrust harder until she's crying out into his neck, feeling her orgasm break through and wash over her. She nearly sobs against him at the release, and it's only a few more thrusts before he's joining her. He groans her name and then she can feel him coming hard inside her.

They stay like that, Laurel on top, her face in his neck, his arms wrapped around her tightly. He's softening inside her but they don't move as their breathing returns to normal. She presses soft kisses against his neck, feels his lips against her temple. His fingers are pressing into her skin, gripping her so tightly that she thinks she might bruise. She doesn't care though because she needs that reassurance that this is real. It's been so long without him, and she doesn't want to wake up and find out this is all a dream.

After several minutes, Laurel slowly pulls up, looking down at him with a small smile on her face. She leans in and kisses him softly.

"Come on," she whispers against his lips, "Let's move to the bed."

He nods his agreement, leaning in to kiss her once more. When they pull apart, she moves off of him, standing without a care that she's completely naked, that she can feel some of him sliding down her thigh. She embraces it, embraces his eyes on her, and embraces the feeling of having just been truly loved.

She holds out her hand, and he smiles as he takes it and moves to his feet. She intends to lead him to the bed but before she can, he's pulling her flush against him and resting his other hand on her cheek.

"I love you," he tells her, and for the first time, she doesn't doubt him. She rises on her toes and kisses him softly.

"I love you too," she returns.

She smiles. They part only so they can climb on the bed. As soon as he's settled, she's settling herself against him, resting her head on his chest and hand over his heart. They're silent. For Laurel, she can't stop thinking about how she doesn't want this to end. She can't go back to Philly without him. She's lived for the past decade feeling unwanted, feeling that no one could ever love her the way Frank loves her. The kidnapping, being left with those men and fearing her life for months because her father wouldn't pay a ransom made her think that no one could ever truly want her, that she could never truly trust when someone said they did. Because her father was supposed to love her, to want her, to do whatever he could to protect her, and he didn't.

But Frank is not her father, and she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she were in trouble, Frank would do whatever he could to protect her, to save her. She feels safe with him. And that's something she hasn't truly felt in a long time. She doesn't want to let that feeling go.

"I want to, Frank," she says softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his skin.

"Want to?"

"I want to get away from it, from her, and the murders, and all of it. I hate it," she tells him, taking a deep breath, starting to feel desperate. "I hate what I have to do for her. Being her puppet. I hate that I had to go see my father, and I—"

"Hey, shhh. It's okay, Laurel," he says softly as he pulls her even closer with one arm and brings a hand to cradle her head against her chest. "It'll be okay."

"I mean it," she says again, more emphatically. She sits up slightly so that she can look at him and he can see how serious she really is. "I want to leave Frank, with you. I want us to start over, to live our lives together. I want to get to know you, completely. And I want a chance." Frank pushes some hair out of her face, as he listens intently. She reaches up and grabs his hand lacing their fingers together. "I want a chance for us. To make it out, away from all the pain and the murder and the death… So, did you mean it?" she asks softly. "Would you leave with me? Start a new life with me?"

He stares at her for several moments. Studying her, she thinks, trying to decide if she's going to regret this in the morning. She won't. He must see it, must make a decision because he smiles softly and nods.

"In a heartbeat," he tells her.

She returns his smile, turning her head to place a kiss against his palm. "So we'll do it?"

"I'm in if you're in."

The next morning, Laurel goes out to pick up breakfast and coffee, and for the first time in months, she can't stop smiling. She's happy, truly happy at the thought of starting over and getting away from everything that has brought her pain.

She believes that Frank wants it with her too but she can't help the fear that washes over her as she gets back to the room, the thought that he'll have left again because he thinks it's what's best for her or some misguided idea like that. She closes her eyes as she turns the key and opens the door, holding her breath.

"Let me help with that," she hears almost immediately, the tray with their drinks being taken from her.

She sighs in relief louder than she intended, shutting the door behind her with a smile.

"What?" Frank asks softly. She turns to look at him as he lays the tray down on the small table. She can see he's confused when their eyes meet. She shrugs slightly.

"I was almost afraid you might not be here when I got back," she admits.

He gives her a sad smile. She thinks it's an apology, a recognition that he doesn't blame her to think he might run again.

"Are sure you want to do this?" Frank asks after a moment.

Her smile widens as she walks towards him. Her eyes don't leave his because she needs him to believe her, to know she's never been more certain of anything.

"Yes, all I want is to be with you. Frank, I can go to law school anywhere. And honestly, right now, I don't even know that I want to anymore. But I... you were right. I need to get away from everything there, too. And we can have a fresh start…" She reaches out for his hand, and he laces their fingers. "It won't be easy," she warns gently. "We have a lot of trust to rebuild but I want to try. I can't be without you anymore."

Frank takes it in, and when his smile widens, she squeezes his hand.

"Where do we go?" he asks. And he sounds ready. He sounds like he's made not only the decision to run away with her but also to do whatever he can to earn her trust back, to make them stronger, and she believes in him. She knows he will.

She thinks for a moment, only one true option floating around in her head. It's a big step, though, for her and for them, and she's sure he'll understand that. After all, he knows her better than anyone.

"What about Mexico?" she suggests. "At least for awhile. We can take time there to figure everything out."

"You want me to meet your mom?" he asks, surprised, almost in awe.

Laurel smiles. She knew he would understand, had told him one night how important her mom is to her and how guilty Laurel feels that she never saw her as much, that she was forced to move to Florida with her dad after the breakdown, and that for the longest time, she didn't take the initiative to visit as much as she should have. Still, out of everyone in her family, it's her mom that matters most, her mom's opinion that she respects the most. And to share this part of her life with Frank indicates just how important _he_ is to her.

"Yeah, I do."

V.

They take her car. Frank's is a rundown hunk of metal that he bought for $600 before skipping town. It won't last much longer anyway. He drives them back to Philadelphia; the plan is to grab the things they need from her apartment and apparently from his. Laurel tells him she's been paying his rent, hoping that someday he would come back. But they are only back temporarily. They'll take what they want, ask Bonnie to take care of the rest, and then start the drive south to Mexico.

Frank honestly believes that this is one of his better plans. He sees a life for him and Laurel now. She's right that the trust is broken, and he'll have to work to fix it, but he will. He wants to. He never wants her to doubt him again; and so, he'll tell her everything, never let down. He knows that he can do it because he is so deeply in love with her. And for once, that's what he'll focus on.

They stop at Bonnie's, once they are done at their apartments, so Frank can say goodbye and Laurel can say thank you. Laurel tries to hang back after she does, give him time with his best friend. He doesn't let her, though, keeps her hand in his and right by his side where she belongs the entire time.

"Where will you go?" Bonnie asks after he explains that they're leaving, probably for good. He can hear the tears she's trying to hold back, and he hates that he's leaving her here alone. But she and Annalise always had a different relationship, and Frank thinks that they need each other. Bonnie would never be able to leave her, and he wouldn't ask her to.

"You know we can't tell you that. It would put you in a bad position with Annalise, and if you really don't know where we are, you won't have to lie to her," he tells her. He wants to reach out when he sees the tears welling up but she's always been too strong, stood on her own for too long, that she won't let anyone comfort her like that, not even him.

It's hard because they all know this is it. Bonnie cannot be put in danger. He and Laurel discussed it on the drive back, and if Bonnie knows how to contact him she'll always be under suspicion with Annalise. They're protecting her by making this a clean break.

He feels Laurel squeeze his hand. It's comforting, and he glances over at her with a grateful smile. When he looks back at Bonnie, she's watching him with a look that he can't quite decipher.

"Promise me you'll be happy," she says quietly.

"Bon—"

"No, I mean it. Put everything that happened in the past and move forward... together," she urges, glancing over at Laurel. "You both deserve to be happy and not have the past hanging over you."

"You deserve it, too," he tells her, meaning every word.

"I'm working on it." She gives him a wry smile, and he thinks that maybe she will be okay. She always is.

He hopes that one day it will be different. He can call up Bonnie and give her an invitation to his life with Laurel but he won't give any hope. Not with this. Not when Bonnie will hold onto that hope and wait. He wants her to move forward, either with Annalise or on her own.

When he pulls up in front of Wes's apartment next, they sit there for several moments in silence. Laurel is looking out the window towards his building. Frank is looking at her.

"He's going to be mad," she says softly. She turns toward him then. "He'll feel betrayed, that I'm leaving with you… after everything."

"Do you want me to go with you?" he asks. He knows the puppy would never physically hurt Laurel but if she wants him with her, he'll go.

She gives him a small smile. "We both agreed your chances of survival are slim if you set foot in that apartment," she reminds him.

"I know," he nods, laughing softly, "but I'll take my chances if you want me there."

She looks grateful but shakes her head. "This is something I need to do on my own," she decides. "I'll be back soon."

"Take your time," he tells her as she opens the door and gets out.

He watches her disappear into the building, and he hates that he can't be there for her the way she was for Bonnie. She's right, though, and he knows it. This is something Laurel needs to do alone. Frank sees the connection Laurel has with Wes, knows that she's looked at him as a brother, her best friend and that he's someone she truly cares about. Maybe he should have been jealous by their relationship but he never was. He's always trusted in Laurel, always trusted in what he feels for her. He's confident enough in what they have that Wes has never felt like a threat to him.

So, he waits, hoping that it's all going well and she's able to have a pleasant goodbye but when Laurel comes back about a half hour later, it's clear she's been crying.

He doesn't make to go anywhere just yet, instead, watching her a moment. "You wanna talk about it?" he asks.

"No," she responds almost instantly, giving him a genuine smile as she reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together. "I'm good," she assures him.

"Yeah?" He's not so sure.

She nods. "I mean, it wasn't great but I think he understands… And despite what he says, I know this is right. I'm not making a mistake by choosing a future with you. I don't doubt this choice… So, yeah, I'm good."

He smiles softly and lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"I love you," he whispers. "Always."

She smiles.

Finally, their last stop is his parents. Laurel refuses to let him just take off without seeing them, and he appreciates that but he's also nervous. They stand hand-in-hand and tell his parents that they've decided to move away, and once they get settled in a new place, he'll call. His mom doesn't understand where this sudden decision has come from, especially since Frank has been gone for several months now, but his dad gives him a knowing look.

And soon, the two of them are in the other room, while his mom takes Laurel into the kitchen to help pack up some of the cookies she made earlier that day, something to take with them on the road.

"You told her," he dad says. There's no anger in the words, no feelings of betrayal. It's just a fact.

Frank clears his throat softly. "Yeah… she had to know if I wanted a chance to fix things with her."

"And that's why you're going away, to protect her."

"Yeah, we want a new life," he says simply. "You know how it is with Annalise. It's been bad for Laurel too, andnow that she knows... it's what we need."

Of course, his dad would have figured it out, that Laurel knows the truth, that him leaving with her is as much about keeping her safe – from Annalise, from the mafia, from this world – as it is giving himself a new life. His dad has always had a way of knowing.

And Frank's had to do this before, start a new life when he first got out of prison, and he worked so hard, meeting with Sam daily for hours, working through everything to try and adjust somehow to being an adult in the real world when he never got to be a real teenager; he never got to go through life with his peers and learn how to really function. He was stunted – still is, in many ways – but once he made the decision to get out of prison, he told himself he was going to be okay, that he was going to do whatever he could to come out of this as normal as possible, even if that meant pretending. And he did a lot of pretending – just after getting out, many times throughout the years, and even with Laurel – because he didn't think anyone would truly understand what he had gone through, what he's still going through.

And yeah, he messed up along the way, really messed up, did things he never thought he would do, but he tried, too. And now, Laurel knows. She knows everything and he never has to lie to her again.

"You gotta ring for her?" his dad asks, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Frank puts his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet as he kicks at something imaginary. He shrugs. "It's too early for that. We gotta lot to work through, first."

"You're moving away with her, Frankie. You told her about me. And I've never seen you love someone like her. You can't tell me you're not gonna marry her," he prods.

Frank looks at him then, and when he speaks, it's with certainty. "I am. If she'll have me."

"Well, do it soon, okay? Your ma wants more grandchildren," he teases.

"I'll work on it," Frank says softly. And he knows it will happen. He's found someone he can be himself with, someone he is meant to be with, his other half. And he thinks his dad can see that, thinks too that he can see his dad's own guilt over having put his son in jail lessening to some degree. Frank hopes it is because, really, he never blamed him. His dad did what was needed to protect their family. And now, Frank is doing what he needs to in order to protect his own budding family. Because that's what Laurel truly is. His family.

They eventually make it to Sayulita, Mexico, where Laurel's mom lives in a beautiful home overlooking the water and not far from the surf beaches. He quickly learns that it really is something Laurel loves to do. And he's hoping that eventually he'll get better. One day.

Months later they're still there. Frank loves it; he learns to like the slower, more reflective pace of life, he enjoys the warm sun and the calm of the ocean, and he cannot get enough of spending all his time with Laurel.

They'll have to figure out their longer-term plan eventually. He'll need a job, and he knows Laurel wants to do something good with her life, but they'll get there. Like she told him that night in the hotel room, they have time now.

He's out by the pool with Laurel's mom, enjoying the late afternoon sun and ocean breeze. They are in the middle of one of their daily Spanish lesson; she had insisted on it, that he learn Spanish if he's going to live in Mexico and start a family with Laurel. Frank actually doesn't mind, though. He enjoys these daily lessons and spending time with Laurel's mom. He can see exactly where it is Laurel gets her innate goodness, her light. And that Laurel's mom just welcomed him with open arms makes him feel like maybe he can be the man Laurel deserves. If both Laurel and her mom see something in him, he's going to do everything he can to live up to it.

He scratches nervously at the beard Laurel made him grow back trying to think of the best way to respond to the question asked. He may be trying but it doesn't mean that learning Spanish isn't slow going for him. He can see her mom's frustration sometimes but she never seems to run out of patience.

"Uh, yo necesito—"

"Frank?" Laurel calls from inside the house. He can tell her voice is growing closer, so he doesn't make a move to get up.

"Yeah?" he simply calls back before her mom hits him on the arm, giving him the same stern look Laurel has given him hundreds of times before. He rolls his eyes but smiles and gives in.

"¿Qué?" he calls back instead, looking over his shoulder toward the back door.

When Laurel comes out she doesn't look okay, she looks like she's in pain, and Frank is immediately on his feet moving in her direction, her mom close behind.

"Laurel?" he asks, worry clear in his voice.

"My water broke," she tells him, gritting her teeth through what must be a contraction.

To say the pregnancy was a surprise when they found out a month and a half after arriving in Mexico is an understatement. They hadn't used protection that first night in the hotel. It was probably stupid but neither of them was really thinking about anything other than reconnecting. Laurel insisted on protection after that night, until she could get to a doctor, but it didn't matter because they had missed it then.

Laurel freaked out. Frank did too and still is internally because he's wanted this baby from the moment he knew it was happening, knows too that he doesn't deserve it. Ultimately, they both realized it's what they were planning on anyway, what they want; it's their chance for the future they envisioned. They may not have been expecting children so early, wanted some time together first to rebuild their relationship, become stronger, but of all the things that have been thrown at them, Frank knows that this is by far the most positive, the most promising. It's their chance to build a family away from the death and destruction. It's a chance to be happy. And Frank knows he'll never give any of this up.

"It's time?" he asks, the biggest smile on his face. "Our little bean is ready to make her debut?"

Laurel looks up at him, her smile matching. "I think so. I called your parents, they're going to be on the next flight down. I told them you would text the credit card number so they could purchase tickets, and the doctor knows we're on the way to the hospital," she starts telling him as he and her mom help her through the house towards the front door. He grabs her suitcase along the way; it has been packed and ready for the hospital for two weeks. He laughs softly at how, even in this situation, she's still that type-A girl that has to do something, can't sit still. He kisses her on the temple.

"Laurel," he says softly, pausing her train of thought. She looks at him. "You just work on bringing her into the world, okay? I'll take care of the rest of it. We're a team, remember?"

She smiles and nods, excitement bubbling over. "Okay, okay… I love you, Frank."

"I love you too," he smiles, "But can we please get going before you have the baby right here. I'm not a doctor for a reason."

She laughs and takes his hand, the three of them walking out to the car. "Frank, I have time. And it's all going to work out."

He gets her settled in the passenger seat and then pauses to look at her for a moment. Every day, she is somehow more and more beautiful. But like this: casual, no makeup, and in the middle of having his baby, he can truly say that he's never loved her more. He kisses her softly.

"I know. You're always right."

And as he gets settled in the car and starts their drive to the hospital, he can't help but feel like he's finally where he was supposed to be all along. He's caused pain and death and destruction and doesn't deserve this but maybe, just maybe, there's a chance with Laurel, with this child, for true redemption.


End file.
